


The Light From the End of the Tunnel, Reflecting Into the Dark

by AstroGirl



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Gen, Magic, Meeting Your Younger Self, Time Travel, just a bit of H.G. Wells
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-06
Updated: 2020-02-06
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:42:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22441267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AstroGirl/pseuds/AstroGirl
Summary: When Regina gets caught up in a side effect of the latest spell meant to keep Storybrooke safe, she finds herself visiting moments from her past.  And there are so many things she wants to tell herself.
Comments: 5
Kudos: 11
Collections: Genprompt Bingo Round 17, Past Imperfect Future Unknown 2019





	The Light From the End of the Tunnel, Reflecting Into the Dark

**Author's Note:**

  * For [celaenos](https://archiveofourown.org/users/celaenos/gifts).



> This was written for Past Imperfect, Future Unknown, for the prompt "Giving Advice to the Past Version of Yourself." It probably also fits " Redeemed Villain Travels to Before Their Redemption" and maybe "Parallel Universes," too. I am also using this one for my Gen Prompt Bingo card, for the prompt "Shadows/Darkness." Which fits mostly in a metaphorical sense, but the metaphorical and the literal senses overlap a lot in OUaT, anyway.

She can can control this. She can make it work, make it come out right. She _has_ to.

In front of them, raw magical energy roils and churns in chaotic patterns of yellow and purple, light and shadow that make her eyes ache.

They're not the only thing that aches, either. 

Regina grits her teeth and thrusts her hands forward, channeling more power, more pure, stubborn force of will. She can feel Emma beside her doing the same, Emma's power entwining with hers, feeding it and feeding on it, creating something more potent together than either of them could manage on their own.

Together, they're molding the magic into the shape they want, making it give them the outcome they want. Together, they're _doing_ it.

Barely.

God, Regina hates time magic. Any spell involving time is dangerous and unpredictable, all the more so if it involves the future. _Any_ future. She'd hoped she'd never have to deal with it again, but when in her life has she ever been that lucky? And this time, it was the only choice.

Well. No. Not the _only_ choice. There are always choices. It was the only _good_ choice. The only one with a hope in hell of saving her town, saving the people she cares about. No matter how much it takes out of her. No matter what price she might end up paying if it goes wrong.

But it _is_ working. She can feel it now, feel the brutal Morlock creatures that have invaded Storybrooke disappearing, one by one, drawn back into their own world, into their own bleak future.

She actually feels a little sorry for them. (And when, exactly, did she start feeling sorry for anyone other than herself? When did she start getting _used_ to it?) The damn things didn't ask to come here. And she can't blame them for not wanting to go back where they came from, to face the terrible future their ancestors made for them.

Well. Maybe they've learned something in their time here. Something they can take back with them. A vision of how things could be different. Who knows, maybe they can do something with that.

Regina wishes them luck. She truly does. But right now, mostly she wishes them _gone_ , back to a place where they can be each other's problem, and not hers anymore. Back to a place where they can't threaten her family.

And they're going. Faster and faster now, and finally Regina feels the rush of victory, of relief, as the last one disappears and Storybrooke returns to... Well, to being as close to normal and peaceful as it ever gets.

Regina turns towards Emma and grins at her, triumphant and grateful. 

She sees Emma return the smile.

And she sees the smile turn abruptly into an expression of wide-eyed horror. "Regina, look out!" Emma shouts, but it's already too late.

A great, thrashing, chaotic wave of magic is rushing towards her. Too fast to dodge, too powerful to turn away. 

In the split second before it engulfs her, Regina sends a blast of power towards Emma, knocking her back, knocking her out of the way.

"Emma," she says, "I'm sorry."

And her life shatters into pieces.

**

Regina blinks. Her head hurts. Her eyes take a moment to focus. She reaches out to steady herself against a wall. 

It's a familiar wall. A familiar corridor, a familiar castle. And, coming around the corner, a familiar face.

Not the future, she realizes. The recoil from the spell must have catapulted her into the past.

"Oh, hello," says the young woman -- the young _Regina_ \-- stopping in her tracks and offering up a confused but genuinely friendly smile. "I didn't know we had visitors."

It's nothing like looking into a mirror. The face in front of her isn't one Regina's seen looking back at her for a very, very long time. "I... I just got here," she manages.

Her younger self takes her in. Her Land Without Magic clothing. Her face. The young woman's expression is one of trying to place someone hauntingly familiar and yet utterly strange. "Are you a relative of..." She trails off. Regina favors her mother in looks, she knows, but no member of her mother's family would be here, in this castle. Not ever. "Of my father's?"

"Yes," says Regina. Somewhere in this castle, her father is alive. She's going to try not to think too much about that right now. "Look at you," she breathes. "You're so young." This girl's eyes aren't entirely free of pain, or sorrow. They never have been. But she hasn't broken under the burden of it yet. Darkness is still only a thing lurking at the edges of her life, not her life itself.

Her younger self simply looks at her, not understanding. Regina aches for her. For all that lies ahead of her. For all the terrible choices she has yet to make.

Or not. Maybe not.

Time magic is a strange thing. The spell she and Emma created, it can't change their past. Regina's choices are Regina's to live with, forever. 

But creating _new_ pasts? A new future in a new world, and a new Regina to live in it? That is possible. Entirely possible.

The right word now, the right piece of advice, the right _something_ , and maybe none of it has to happen, not for this poor, sweet, frighteningly ignorant girl. Maybe Daniel never has to die. Maybe, with forewarning, they can escape together. Make their own happy ending. Their own happy _beginning_.

What a very different story, that would be. No death, no darkness, no bitter, life-consuming rage. 

No Storybrooke. No Emma. No _Henry_.

She couldn't choose that for herself. Nothing is worth losing what she has now. _Nothing._ Not for her.

But for all the people she hurt, all the people she killed? For her _father_? How can she not?

Her younger self is smiling uncertainly, stuttering an excuse -- "My mother is expecting me" -- to extricate herself from the presence of this strange, staring woman. She begins to move past Regina, down the corridor, away.

Regina puts out a hand and stops her. "Listen," she says. "There are things I need to tell you."

But it's too late. The spell isn't done with her yet.

**

Another wave of disorientation, another displacement. Another corridor.

This one's familiar, too. And so is the woman who comes charging out of the door at the end of it. It's her, again, of course. Herself. And Regina knows immediately that she's missed her first, best chance to make things better. That if she were to pull out this Regina's heart, it would already be splattered with spots of blackness.

"You're going to have to be tougher than that, dearie!" a voice calls through the door. 

The young woman turns back towards it. She hasn't seen Regina yet, but Regina catches a glimpse of the expression on her face. Anger. Resentment. Fear. Shame.

Does she remember this day? Maybe. Maybe not. There were so many days like this. Days of Rumple pushing her to push her ruthlessness to its limits. To what were its limits, then. 

There are spells that require blood. Spells that require sacrifice and pain, sometimes from the caster. Sometimes, more disturbingly, not. Rumplestiltskin knows a great many of them.

Regina watches her younger self straighten up, watches her body tense and her expression harden. She knows all too well what is going on in that Regina's head right now. _This is what you are_ , she's telling herself. _This is what you want to be. What you have to be. What you deserve. Stop being a whiny child and get on with it._

Her younger self reaches for the door. Behind it, Rumplestiltskin is whistling, as if he hasn't a care in the world. Which is a lie. It is so very much a lie.

"Wait," Regina says. "Don't."

Her younger self turns. Her eyes grow wide. "Who the hell are you?"

"I know this is going to be hard to believe," she says, "but I'm you. I'm from the future. A spell brought me back here."

A spark lights up in her younger self's eyes. Part wonder, part greed. "Really? So, I _do_ become a powerful witch? I knew it!"

This isn't how she wants this conversation to go. "I did, yes," she says. "But this..." She waves a hand towards the door, behind which Rumple waits. "This isn't the way to do it. It isn't the way I should have done it. I..." How can she say this? How can she make this desperate, resentful soul understand? "I have so many regrets," she finishes, quietly.

The wonder fades, replaced by confusion. Anger. "I don't believe you."

There's so little time. So little time before Rumplestiltskin starts wondering why she's so slow to come back to him today, or before the spell takes her again.

"Believe me," she says. "I'm you. I know." And then, not wanting to poke at the wound, not hers or this poor girl's, but not knowing what else to say, "I know about Daniel." There's more anger, now, in her other self's face. A hint of shock. "I know all your reasons," she continues. "They were _my_ reasons. But this is wrong. He's _using_ you, Regina."

Young Regina laughs. Regina can see how hollow it is, how forced. "Who, Rumplestiltskin? He's not using me any more than I'm using him." Her eyes narrow. "Is this some kind of a trick?"

Regina is torn between a deep, aching pity for this woman and a desire to smack some sense into her. "How do you not see it?" she says. It comes out softer than she expects, almost more wondering than angry. "How did I never see it?"

That gets to her younger self, somehow, rocks her back on her heels. Maybe she has finally seen something of herself in Regina's eyes. "No," she says. "No, this can't be true."

"It is. He's using you. He needs someone to cast a curse for him, and he needs you to be the person to do it. He'll help you find the power, but none of it is for you. He'll keep pushing you to blacken your heart, bit by bit, until he's made you into the person he wants you to be. Until he's warped and twisted you into someone who will _kill her own father_ just to have power, just to have revenge, and it will take you so long to come back from that, Regina. You have no idea how long."

"Wh... What?" The other Regina looks shaken. Regina's getting through to her. She can tell she is. Although she has no idea if it will be enough.

"You deserve better than that." She takes her other self by the shoulders. She feels so warm. So very human. "He's worse than your mother," she says. "So much worse. And you deserve so much better."

The other Regina opens her mouth, starts to say something, but she doesn't get far before the door crashes open and Rumplestiltskin strides through, already calling out, "Are you still out here sniveling? Get back in here, dearie, we have--"

He stops. He stares at them. "Well," he says. "What have we here?"

Regina stares at him, and for a moment, she imagines she can see him through two sets of eyes. The eyes of her younger self, to whom he was power incarnate, a superhuman creature, a savior. And the eyes of her own hard-won experience. She knows him as he is, now. Knows him as a sad, old man, desperate with regret, crippled with the fear of powerlessness, longing to become something better and too often losing his way.

"We," says Regina, "have _Regina_. And she is not your puppet." She looks at herself. "Are you?"

"No," says the younger Regina, and it's what she would have said anyway, of course, but Regina thinks she hears something new in the young woman's voice, some seed of doubt. Some seed of belief. 

Who knows? Maybe that might be enough. You have to start somewhere, right?

"Now, look--" says Rumple, but Regina does not look, because the spell is taking her, and she is gone.

**

It's later. It's so much later. She's in her castle, and this is very much _her_ castle, now, all harsh, stark contrasts and unforgiving lines and angles. She'd decorated it to reflect the state of her heart. Or maybe to remind herself of what she'd decided to be.

Regina has to admit, she still likes the aesthetic. But it desperately needs a touch of softness.

On the other side of the room, the Evil Queen stands, her face mostly turned away from Regina, talking to her father. Regina can't hear what they're saying.

And she is very much the Evil Queen now. She's dressed in jewels and darkness, the picture of ruthless power, but when Regina catches a glimpse of her face, she doesn't look ruthless and powerful. She only looks lost.

For a moment, Regina's hands clench by her sides, sorrow and irritation fighting each other in her mind. That young idiot must not have listened, to find herself still here, in this life. She must not have--

No. Wait. Regina takes a breath and reminds herself of what she already ought to know: This is her own past, or a branching splinter of it. Not her other self's future. Wherever that girl is now, it isn't here. It might be a duplicate of here, if she still made the same choices. But it isn't here. 

Across the room, the Evil Queen raises her hand, and suddenly, sickeningly, Regina realizes which moment she's come to. She remembers this. Remembers the exact pattern of light and shadow, the exact motion of her hand. Remembers holding her father's heart and trying so hard to convince herself that grief and guilt were actually triumph and strength that she almost believed it.

She's seen this moment too many times since, behind her closed eyelids, even worlds and decades away.

"No!" she cries out. "Regina, _don't_!"

Her other self turns, her eyes widening in shock.

This isn't the half-trained girl from last time. This is one of the most powerful witches in history, at the height of her power. This is a woman who might well understand what it means when a strange version of herself appears at the greatest turning point of her life, shouting _no_ and giving off, to finely attuned witchy senses, the faint hourglass-sand scent of a time spell.

Maybe that is enough. She thinks it might be. She can remember the state of her own heart in this moment, the way it almost felt ready to tip. That one, final moment of _you don't have to do this_ before stuffing that last pure part of herself in a box and slamming it shut.

It might be enough.

But she'll never know, because, once again, she is gone.

**

She's in her house, in Storybrooke, outside Henry's room. Inside, she can hear herself singing a lullaby. She's forgotten where she learned that one. It certainly wasn't from her mother.

Through the open door, she can see part of the room. Not a teenager's room, yet. A nursery. 

She finds her heart melting at the thought of what's inside, wanting very badly to see Henry as a baby again, with all his stories still ahead of him. To breathe in his baby scent and kiss his sweet, chubby face.

Suddenly, she's being slammed up against the wall. "Who are you, and what are you doing in my--?"

The other Regina breaks off. Regina is getting very familiar with that look of shock on her own face. She's getting a little tired of seeing it. "Hello, Regina," she says.

"You're--? Are you _me_?" But her other self doesn't let her go. Doesn't stop looking at her with distrust.

Regina rolls her eyes. "Of course I am, you idiot."

Her other self's eyes narrow. "Prove it."

"Gladly. If you'll unhand me." The other Regina does, reluctantly. "I know about the curse. I know about the Enchanted Forest, Snow White, everything." She pauses. Straightens her clothes. Looks her other self squarely in the face. "I know you still have nightmares about what happened to your father. What you did to him."

Anger flashes in the other Regina's eyes. 

"Oh, get over yourself," says Regina. And then, more gently, "I know how trapped you are here. I know it's driving you crazy, to have everything you thought you wanted, and still feel empty. Or, rather that it _was_ driving you crazy." She nods towards the nursery. "Before him."

The other Regina's face softens. "Is he all right? In the future? Nothing happens to him?"

Regina smiles at herself. "A _lot_ of things happen to him. But he's fine. He's better than fine. He's going to grow up into an amazing young man."

The other Regina lets out a relieved breath, and the smile on her face is so loving, so genuine, that it threatens to break Regina's heart. _Even then_ , she thinks. _Even then, I was capable of this. I was always capable of it._

"Good," the other Regina says.

"May I...?" She gestures towards the nursery. Her younger self hesitates, then nods.

Regina goes in. From his crib, Henry blinks up at her with trusting baby eyes. Regina gathers him into her arms. "Hello there," she breathes. "Look how tiny you are!" 

He coos at her, and her other self smiles. The proud mother. So full of good intentions.

"Listen," Regina says. "I don't have much time. You know and I know that this baby--" She cuddles him, rocks in sweetly in her arms. "--is the most important thing in our life. More important than revenge."

Younger Regina makes a sound, as if about to protest.

"Shut up," she says, and her other self does, with a glare, but no objection. "You know it, even if you won't admit it. You've spent so much of your life tearing down and destroying, and this is your chance to create something. To create not just a person, but a family. A future."

The other Regina looks into her eyes. Regina understands the intensity she sees there very well. She remembers it. Remembers all the hope and fear and the overwhelming, unexpected love of these early days.

Regina hands her the baby. It's probably a bad idea to be holding him when the spell kicks in again.

"Listen," she says. "I'm going to tell you something you're not going to want to hear. I love my son. I love him more than anything else in this world or any other. But I didn't always do right by him."

"I don't believe that," says the other Regina. They both know it's a lie.

Regina finds herself having to take a moment, to swallow down some rising emotion, before she can go on. "It's true," she says. "He was such a bright boy. So smart, so full of curiosity. And I lied to him, about everything. He figured it all out, that's how smart he was. Ten years old. He figured out who I was, where we came from. Everything. Or enough of everything. And do you know what I did?"

She can see the other Regina asking herself the question, _what would I do?_ Can see her not knowing how to answer it. "I told him he was crazy. _Literally_ crazy." She has to stop, has to swallow again. "It took a long time to rebuild his trust after that."

"All right," says the other Regina. "So I just have to keep him from finding out. Tell me how it happened."

"No!" Regina takes a breath, unclenches her jaw. "Look, I know," she says. "I know you're afraid. Afraid of him finding out who you really are, what you've done. But you know what? My Henry knows those things about me. He knows all of them, and he loves me anyway. But what I did to him, that was the hardest thing to get past. You can avoid that mistake. It's too late to change so much of the... the messed-up stuff you've done in your life, but you can still change that."

The other Regina pulls her son in close to her, holds him as if afraid he might disappear. And, after a moment, she nods. "All right," she says.

Regina smiles at her. Her other self looks startled. She probably hasn't seen herself smiling like that in a while. "Good," she says. "Oh, and one other thing."

"Yes? What?"

"One day, this kid's birth mother is going to show up. You're going to have a million reasons to hate her. But trust me. She's not your enemy. Not if you don't make her into one."

Her younger self looks like she wants to argue. But she's thinking about it. Regina can tell. "All right," she says. "I guess. But, tell me, what--?"

But that's all the answers she's going to get, for now. Because Regina is gone.

**

She finds herself outside Granny's Diner. Through the window, she can see herself and Emma. Regina can't hear what they're saying, but she can see the hostility on their faces, the resentment. She's certain they're trading some brilliantly cutting barbs. 

God, what an idiot she was. Even if it is kind of fun to watch them argue. To be able to smirk at them through the window and think, _I know things you don't know, and this time I'm not going to tell you_.

And she doesn't. She doesn't go in. She doesn't interfere. 

From this point on, things can play out as they're meant to. For all the struggles and all the heartache, she's all right with where things ended up. She really is.

She goes to the park and enjoys the breeze, until the spell comes for her again.

**

"Regina!" Emma is standing up, is reaching out to her. Behind Regina, the maelstrom of time magic gives one last, chaotic heave, and dissipates. The sudden stillness is almost more disconcerting than the spell.

She's back. 

She's home. 

Before she even manages the presence of mind to move, Emma's arms are around her, welcoming her, embracing her, making sure she's whole and real and here. "Regina, I thought we'd lost you. Are you all right?"

And then, from somewhere, Henry comes running. "Mom!" He flings his arms around her, too, around both of them.

"I'm all right," she says. "Everything is fine now. The spell worked. And I'm back where I'm supposed to be."

"Glad to hear it," says Emma. "I'd hate to have to go hunting through time trying to save you." Her smile is almost blindingly brilliant.

Regina hugs them both. "Don't worry," she says. "I managed that on my own. Possibly several times over. At least, I hope I did."

They give her questioning looks. "Come on," she says, letting them go. "I'll explain it to you over cocoa at Granny's."

And she will. These are the people who know her. These are the people who will understand.

She hopes, somewhere out in the vast, branching chaos of time, all those other versions of her are with people like that, too, tonight. Whatever they have or haven't had to go through to get there.

She feels surprisingly optimistic about their chances.


End file.
